The Dead Man
by che-guevara
Summary: Spike's back from the Red Dragons. He's alive. Faye confronts him with her emotions. Written in a weak Hemmingway-ish way. I like reviews.


                He was silent. He looked at Faye, sitting across the room from him, watching him intently. Jet was silently looking at the ceiling.

                "Welcome come…"

                "I'm happy I'm back"

                "Doesn't seem like it"

                "What's your problem, anyway?"

                She stood up and walked away. She leaned against the wall near the large windows, and started watching the Martian landscape. It was still and quiet. No winds, no rain, no snow, no hail… Just blackness and darkness. She had a cigarette gripped tightly between her fingers. Jet stirred in his seat.

                "So, what are you gonna do now? He's dead, she's dead, you're alive, we're alive. Only Ed's missing. What are you gonna do now?"

                "I don't know… Maybe I'll just do what I do best"

                Jet stirred again. Spike lighted up a cigarette, then filled his glass with vermouth.

                "I don't see how anything should change. I'm a bounty hunter at heart" – he smiled. She didn't. Jet stirred one more time. His shot leg was itching and bothering him.

                "Anyway… I'm gonna go to my room" – he stood up and walked away. They heard the metal door shutting heavily as he disappeared out of sight. There was silence for a while: only puffing and breathing could be heard, as the room slowly got filled with the smell of nicotine. She kept looking outside, and he kept stirring, trying to find the best position for his wounded knee. Eventually, both stopped moving. There was tension in the air, but both felt they understood each other. The electricity in the air was connecting them. They knew what the other was thinking.

                "Faye… You might as well tell him. It's better than suffering alone and in the darkness. You've got nothing to lose"

                "What are you talking about?" – Her voice was subdued, beaten, not the usually defiant Faye. She knew Jet knew, and didn't feel like denying it. Her opposition was just part of a strange ritual.

                "Oh come on… You might as scream it out"

                "If it's that obvious, then why can't he get it?"

                "Cause… because he's Spike"

                "Yeah…"

                "He's Spike…"

                Faye's heels clicked for a couple of seconds. She sat down on the yellow couch of the Bebop's living quarters. She was crouched down, her purple/violet hair covering her face completely. From the top of her head came a column of snow. She was looking at her shoes.

                "You've felt sad, right Jet? I mean REALLY sad?"

                He smirked: "Is this gonna be one of those mushy women's conversations?"

                "Just answer the fuckin' question"

                "Well… Yeah, I guess I've felt sad before. Like when I lost my arm…"

                "That's not really sadness. Real sadness can only come from other people. Not from things. People readily sacrifice their lives for causes, yet don't feel sad. Those same people lose someone they love, and they become the most depressed of the world. Have you felt that way?"

                Jet's wrinkles tightened for a moment. His eyes were wandering around in his eyeballs, trying to find a point to look at. Eventually he answered:

                "Yeah… I've felt that way…"

                "That's the way I felt when I saw the Swordfish fly off. That's the way I felt when I saw him turn his back at me and stroll away. That's the way I still feel. He's not the same person anymore. He lost himself there. He died there. Somebody else came back"

                "Oh shut up, won't you? You love the man… Just tell him. Be logical for once"

                "He doesn't love me. He loved Julia"

                "Julia's dead"

                "But she's still more alive than I am"

                "You're being stupid again…"

                "But…"

                "Listen, Faye. You were listening to us when we were talking before he went. You heard his car story. Do you want to be the white cat?"

                "I'm different. The white cat died because his lover died"

                "You're worse. You're just gonna watch him disappear, run away from you… You're not gonna do anything about it. You're eventually gonna cry on his dead body, except with more regret than the white cat. You should talk to him, Faye. Talk to him"

                "You're an idiot"

                "Haven't I heard that before…"

                Spike's door opened. He came out, still clutching his stomach. The wound hadn't healed yet. Jet leaned back in his seat, trying to relax. In a second Faye made up her mind. She stood up and walked to him:

                "Spike. I have something to tell you"

                "Uhm… Could you be quick about it?"

                "Spike…" She lowered her head "Spike… Is there a chance you could… you could forget Julia… and maybe… maybe love someone else…"

                Her head stayed down, neck bent down. At first, Spike was surprised. He looked at her with a stupid look on his face.

                "What the…"

                "I love you"

                He composed himself. He walked right past her, looking up. When he got to the end of the hallway, he turned back:

                "I'm dead, Faye. Don't you get it? I'm a dead man… My tiger-striped cat is gone… Dead… Never to come back… I can't love, I can't feel, I can't touch… I'm a zombie, one of the undead. The only people I love are also dead. I hate the living"

                He went in the bathroom. She stood there for a while, then with a poisonous glance at Jet, retired to her room.

                Next morning they couldn't find Faye. They never found Faye.


End file.
